Day 63 St. Louis DeKent (Rest Day)
Petit Rocher to St. Louis DeKent
Distance: 149 km
August 25, 2006
This morning did not start auspiciously, as when I showed up for breakfast at my usual 7:30 time to an empty oatmeal pot, I was told that breakfast was over, and that I could make it myself.
These are not the words that should be spoken by the galley crew, as it is galley crew’s responsibility to provide breakfast for one and all.
I was too tired to get into it with them, so just grumbled and walked away to make a sandwich; the past two meals around camp had let to big rows between other people besides the BP and myself for a change; I think people are really tired and are coming to the end of their patience-rope, as tempers have been flaring.
The breakfast before last had two parties going at each other, to the point where we thought someone’s eyes would pop out from the exertion of physical expression.
One of the other riders had more energy and got into it with one of the galley crew (as he’s had a similar situation earlier that week for the same reason, that some of the early leavers who want to get out of camp earlier, are rushing the later leavers by shutting down breakfast precipitously.)
Rumor was going around that the original breakfast time of 7:00am to 8:00am had changed to end at 7:30am; we were told at the beginning that under no terms was this ending time to change, as people were not to be rushed.
Somehow, the early leavers thought they could change the rules without a vote, or any consultation with the rest of the group, and that the rule change would go unnoticed.
It hasn’t, as people are up in arms over the dictatorial type rule change.
The person who instructed me to ‘make my own breakfast’ claimed that she thought that everyone knew of the rule change, and when a random pole suggested otherwise, she claimed that since we had got the new driver, she thought we had changed the breakfast time, which was simply not true.
We decided that when we are making everyone fried eggs on toast for breakfast on our next shift, we shall declare the kitchen shut just as she puts out her plate; petty revenge seems to be the order of the day as we are reduced to the immature actions of children on this trip.
Our galley crew motto is, ‘no stomach leaves half full,’ whereas theirs is obviously, “screw you guys, we’re outta here.”
After this all too early excitement, we headed out for a relatively long ride; this being our 6th day of riding before our long awaited rest day.
We rode with our fave’s the Aussies, leaving the camp laughing about the past few explosions around camp.
Our ride was great, as the winds were fairly cooperative, although we switched directions so many times that we didn’t get to take full advantage, but didn’t mind so much as we were having too much fun to notice otherwise.
Even though we were riding with different people, we carried on with our impressions of our fellow campers, this time including the people we were riding with yesterday, so that when we got into camp, we had a good laugh with the others over all of our impressions of each other; some people can do it better that the original person.
At the end of the trip, we shall all perform our impressions of each other, to each other’s faces and have a good laugh as it’s all done in good fun, with no mal intent; most people have a really good sense of humor and play along.
We only have seven more days until we reach St. John’s, so the trip is growing to a close; I will be sad to say goodbye to some of these people even, I am surprised to admit, BP, as we have all grown very fond of each other, in our own funny way.
Some of us have outright argued and blown up at each other, we have all definitely irritated each other at some point or another, but just like a dysfunctional family, care for each other and are genuinely fond of each other, and will be sad to part company at the end.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Day 62 Petit Rocher
Campbellton to Petit Rocher
Distance: 100 km
August 24, 2006
Since our distance was short today, we were beside ourselves with glee, added to by the winds blowing kindly in a favorable direction, plus it being my birthday making the day pretty special.
We got a late start to the day since we knew we had such a short distance to cover, and got into the nearby town of Dalhousie by approximately 10:00am, the time at which Tim Horton’s is even more typically rammed than usual.
We are used to some odd stares from people, accompanied by the odd comment, but the attention received this morning made us feel like minor celebs.
Probably more owing to one of our riders who rides a recumbent bike, or tricyle that draws all kind of attention wherever he goes.
He usually comes into camp with stories of people flagging him down only to pepper him with the standard questions, “is there a motor in it?” (no) “What is it made of?” (carbon fiber,) and the like, but this morning he was swarmed by people fascinated by this alien looking craft with three wheels.
Lewis and I were also surrounded by the friendly folk in Tim’s, who were obviously only too happy to have a distraction from their daily lives (usually we are mostly ignored, or given a narrow-eyed, suspicious sideways glance followed by what is presumably a wise crack made to their equally smug looking friends.)
As it turned out we were chatting with the mayor of Dalhousie’s wife, who was very excited to learn about our adventure; she made a prompt call straight to the mayor’s office, who then in turn came trotting over to meet us at Tim’s, where we were all invited for a group photo op at Town Hall.
We were only too happy to play into the role of welcomed and esteemed guests, and puffed out our chests, and clicked and slid our way over to the Town Hall (cycling shoes are difficult to walk in,) where we were met by the town photographer who had us pose in front of Town Hall, with the Mayor, who was the friendliest of the friendlies in Dalhousie.
He invited us into his office (quite grand) and gave us a tour.
We learned that he used to play with the Boston Bruins and played against whom else but Tim Horton himself!
I have become so used to using that name as a means to tea and yummy treats that I had forgotten that he was an actual person, a famous hockey player at that.
We ended up spending quite a while with the mayor, chatting about this and that, (it was also his wife’s birthday today, which was reason for a big hug from the mayor) and left feeling quite chuffed with ourselves (the photographer is also the local reporter who was going to publish a story about us.)
Shortly after we left, we rounded the corner and came face to face with a 13 degree hill, probably the steepest of the tour; luckily it was relatively short, as had it been any longer I fear I would have had to get off and walk as I was feeling especially lazy and tired.
We had a wonderfully fun day riding with a good crew (Vancouvermike, Englishmike and Alex); we mostly spent the ride doing impressions of other people on the tour, as we have good fodder and people who can do good impressions-this was worth many laughs as we sailed along, coming into camp relatively early, due to our short day.
What a lucky day it was for me; I had ‘happy birthday’ sung to me twice by the group (once in the morning and once at dinner,) and in two languages, English and Dutch.
I was presented with a group card, and a cake, with my name spelled correctly-a rarity.
The Aussies and Tom (also Australian) also gave me a card and a gift, which was really very sweet, as I have no idea where they would have purchased it from that day, as we passed no stores of consequence. I’m led to believe they had the forethought to get it the previous day, something that must have taken extraordinary effort, as this trip really reduces one to thinking only of oneself mostly, so I was very grateful for their thoughtfulness and effort.
Campbellton to Petit Rocher
Distance: 100 km
August 24, 2006
Since our distance was short today, we were beside ourselves with glee, added to by the winds blowing kindly in a favorable direction, plus it being my birthday making the day pretty special.
We got a late start to the day since we knew we had such a short distance to cover, and got into the nearby town of Dalhousie by approximately 10:00am, the time at which Tim Horton’s is even more typically rammed than usual.
We are used to some odd stares from people, accompanied by the odd comment, but the attention received this morning made us feel like minor celebs.
Probably more owing to one of our riders who rides a recumbent bike, or tricyle that draws all kind of attention wherever he goes.
He usually comes into camp with stories of people flagging him down only to pepper him with the standard questions, “is there a motor in it?” (no) “What is it made of?” (carbon fiber,) and the like, but this morning he was swarmed by people fascinated by this alien looking craft with three wheels.
Lewis and I were also surrounded by the friendly folk in Tim’s, who were obviously only too happy to have a distraction from their daily lives (usually we are mostly ignored, or given a narrow-eyed, suspicious sideways glance followed by what is presumably a wise crack made to their equally smug looking friends.)
As it turned out we were chatting with the mayor of Dalhousie’s wife, who was very excited to learn about our adventure; she made a prompt call straight to the mayor’s office, who then in turn came trotting over to meet us at Tim’s, where we were all invited for a group photo op at Town Hall.
We were only too happy to play into the role of welcomed and esteemed guests, and puffed out our chests, and clicked and slid our way over to the Town Hall (cycling shoes are difficult to walk in,) where we were met by the town photographer who had us pose in front of Town Hall, with the Mayor, who was the friendliest of the friendlies in Dalhousie.
He invited us into his office (quite grand) and gave us a tour.
We learned that he used to play with the Boston Bruins and played against whom else but Tim Horton himself!
I have become so used to using that name as a means to tea and yummy treats that I had forgotten that he was an actual person, a famous hockey player at that.
We ended up spending quite a while with the mayor, chatting about this and that, (it was also his wife’s birthday today, which was reason for a big hug from the mayor) and left feeling quite chuffed with ourselves (the photographer is also the local reporter who was going to publish a story about us.)
Shortly after we left, we rounded the corner and came face to face with a 13 degree hill, probably the steepest of the tour; luckily it was relatively short, as had it been any longer I fear I would have had to get off and walk as I was feeling especially lazy and tired.
We had a wonderfully fun day riding with a good crew (Vancouvermike, Englishmike and Alex); we mostly spent the ride doing impressions of other people on the tour, as we have good fodder and people who can do good impressions-this was worth many laughs as we sailed along, coming into camp relatively early, due to our short day.
What a lucky day it was for me; I had ‘happy birthday’ sung to me twice by the group (once in the morning and once at dinner,) and in two languages, English and Dutch.
I was presented with a group card, and a cake, with my name spelled correctly-a rarity.
The Aussies and Tom (also Australian) also gave me a card and a gift, which was really very sweet, as I have no idea where they would have purchased it from that day, as we passed no stores of consequence. I’m led to believe they had the forethought to get it the previous day, something that must have taken extraordinary effort, as this trip really reduces one to thinking only of oneself mostly, so I was very grateful for their thoughtfulness and effort.
Day 61 Campbellton, New Brunswick
Amqui to Campbellton
Distance: 104 km
August 23, 2006
Since our group has, in many ways, devolved into much of a circus, one of the riders purchased a clown horn; he likes to honk it at every opportune moment-sometimes directed at the clownish drivers who demonstrate their idiotic driving skills, but more often to announce arrivals, and to punctuate the many bizarre situations we find ourselves in.
This morning a herd (gaggle?) of ducks came wandering near our campsite; he gave the horn a toot, and they reacted like they had just heard their home-coming call as they all came waddling over to us, as if this was the standard procedure.
What else could we do, but feed them our daily bread; it was a fun way to start the day (especially for me as I am such a fan of ducks.)
The Fun People had decided that this was going to be ‘wear underwear on the outside day,’ so those brave enough followed through with the plan; five of us, myself included put our undies over our bike shorts and hit the road.
It was fun for a while, until we stopped at a store of sorts and had to endure the leering looks of the men, and the hostile glare of the women-no words were exchanged whatsoever (none needed to as the message was clear, our behaviour was not appreciated.)
Some of us in the group are more at home with the attention, or more like, are attention seekers, so this only bolstered the activity as we set back out onto the road.
I lasted until about midday, until I could no longer take the questioning looks, and honks from trucks, so took them off before we went into a restaurant packed with truckers.
The riding conditions have been a bit sketchy of late, what with no shoulder for long stretches that have forced us into the roads.
We had a couple of close calls today, again from people overtaking coming from the other direction; one guy decided to start over taking right beside us, with a boat in tow that almost took the whole line of us out (5 people.)
Besides near death experiences that we have become alarmingly accustomed to, the scenery, amazingly has changed quite dramatically; we’re in the fly fishing capital of Atlantic Canada now, so our ride snaked along besides twisty, turny rivers that often had people in big boots, fishing for salmon.
It almost looked like we were back in BC again, as we are in the hills again with the rivers that run beside them.
The weather has taken a really cold turn; none of us seem quite prepared as we have been so used to the heat wave that had Canada up in arms this summer; it’s either too hot or too cold; why can’t we be like Goldie Locks and her porridge and get it ‘just right?’
Amqui to Campbellton
Distance: 104 km
August 23, 2006
Since our group has, in many ways, devolved into much of a circus, one of the riders purchased a clown horn; he likes to honk it at every opportune moment-sometimes directed at the clownish drivers who demonstrate their idiotic driving skills, but more often to announce arrivals, and to punctuate the many bizarre situations we find ourselves in.
This morning a herd (gaggle?) of ducks came wandering near our campsite; he gave the horn a toot, and they reacted like they had just heard their home-coming call as they all came waddling over to us, as if this was the standard procedure.
What else could we do, but feed them our daily bread; it was a fun way to start the day (especially for me as I am such a fan of ducks.)
The Fun People had decided that this was going to be ‘wear underwear on the outside day,’ so those brave enough followed through with the plan; five of us, myself included put our undies over our bike shorts and hit the road.
It was fun for a while, until we stopped at a store of sorts and had to endure the leering looks of the men, and the hostile glare of the women-no words were exchanged whatsoever (none needed to as the message was clear, our behaviour was not appreciated.)
Some of us in the group are more at home with the attention, or more like, are attention seekers, so this only bolstered the activity as we set back out onto the road.
I lasted until about midday, until I could no longer take the questioning looks, and honks from trucks, so took them off before we went into a restaurant packed with truckers.
The riding conditions have been a bit sketchy of late, what with no shoulder for long stretches that have forced us into the roads.
We had a couple of close calls today, again from people overtaking coming from the other direction; one guy decided to start over taking right beside us, with a boat in tow that almost took the whole line of us out (5 people.)
Besides near death experiences that we have become alarmingly accustomed to, the scenery, amazingly has changed quite dramatically; we’re in the fly fishing capital of Atlantic Canada now, so our ride snaked along besides twisty, turny rivers that often had people in big boots, fishing for salmon.
It almost looked like we were back in BC again, as we are in the hills again with the rivers that run beside them.
The weather has taken a really cold turn; none of us seem quite prepared as we have been so used to the heat wave that had Canada up in arms this summer; it’s either too hot or too cold; why can’t we be like Goldie Locks and her porridge and get it ‘just right?’
Day 60 Amqui, Quebec
Trois Pistole to Amqui
Distance: 158 km
August 22, 2006
Yay, finally we were blessed with the presence of Tailwig!
The almighty winds shifted direction at some point during the night and blew in an easterly direction.
It was so nice for a change to sail by other cyclists going in the other direction, this time with big grins on our faces!
Whereas a few days ago it took us over 30 minutes to do 10 km, today we did over 20km in half an hour, we were just flying along-what a glorious feeling to be able to travel at such speeds (up to 50km/hour on a flat,) it’s this kind of riding that makes all the bad days worth it.
The scenery in this part of Quebec is just amazing; the little villages that we go through seem to come from the impressionist era, with their little cozy houses and vibrant gardens bursting with flowers and greenery.
At one point we were following the ‘coast line’ and had spectacular views of the St. Lawrence river and the surrounding farm lands; Quebec seems to smell like blue cheese-I think it’s all the dairies and dairy farms, but there is a definite blue cheese aroma in the air.
Before we knew it we had done 60km in two hours, and to accompany this happy situation we happened across our favorite stop, Timmy H’s, where we found some others from our crew, happily sipping hot beverages and other sweet treats.
We left with our riding partners, the Aussies and had a fun rest of the day sailing across the Quebec landscape.
Unfortunately we missed some good restaurants earlier on, in hope that we’d find some later in the ride; we didn’t, but found a roadside stop where Lewis and I could not resist the poutine; the Aussies showed more restraint.
I was quite pleased with myself as I was able to sort of order ‘en Francais’ as the person was able to understand me; I am inspired to learn French upon my return!
In other news, we were hoping to get our driver Megan back at the last rest stop, where the 72 and 73 day groups overlap, but it was not to be.
The group is still really angry about it, as even though we like the new driver (driverMike) we can’t understand why they weren’t traded back, as each group wants their original driver back-we were told she was going to be given a rest, but it does not make any sense, as she is now working the same job, just driving another truck with the other group.
It seems senseless and mean spirited to us that each group is unhappy with the situation, as are the drivers, when the situation could be rectified very easily by just switching them back.
Trois Pistole to Amqui
Distance: 158 km
August 22, 2006
Yay, finally we were blessed with the presence of Tailwig!
The almighty winds shifted direction at some point during the night and blew in an easterly direction.
It was so nice for a change to sail by other cyclists going in the other direction, this time with big grins on our faces!
Whereas a few days ago it took us over 30 minutes to do 10 km, today we did over 20km in half an hour, we were just flying along-what a glorious feeling to be able to travel at such speeds (up to 50km/hour on a flat,) it’s this kind of riding that makes all the bad days worth it.
The scenery in this part of Quebec is just amazing; the little villages that we go through seem to come from the impressionist era, with their little cozy houses and vibrant gardens bursting with flowers and greenery.
At one point we were following the ‘coast line’ and had spectacular views of the St. Lawrence river and the surrounding farm lands; Quebec seems to smell like blue cheese-I think it’s all the dairies and dairy farms, but there is a definite blue cheese aroma in the air.
Before we knew it we had done 60km in two hours, and to accompany this happy situation we happened across our favorite stop, Timmy H’s, where we found some others from our crew, happily sipping hot beverages and other sweet treats.
We left with our riding partners, the Aussies and had a fun rest of the day sailing across the Quebec landscape.
Unfortunately we missed some good restaurants earlier on, in hope that we’d find some later in the ride; we didn’t, but found a roadside stop where Lewis and I could not resist the poutine; the Aussies showed more restraint.
I was quite pleased with myself as I was able to sort of order ‘en Francais’ as the person was able to understand me; I am inspired to learn French upon my return!
In other news, we were hoping to get our driver Megan back at the last rest stop, where the 72 and 73 day groups overlap, but it was not to be.
The group is still really angry about it, as even though we like the new driver (driverMike) we can’t understand why they weren’t traded back, as each group wants their original driver back-we were told she was going to be given a rest, but it does not make any sense, as she is now working the same job, just driving another truck with the other group.
It seems senseless and mean spirited to us that each group is unhappy with the situation, as are the drivers, when the situation could be rectified very easily by just switching them back.
Day 58 Riviere Quelle
Quebec City to Riviere Quelle
Distance: 138 km
Day 59 Trois Pistoles
Riviere Quelle to Trois Pistole
Distance: 117km
August 21, 2006
If I had thought that I had already had my toughest ride on the tour thus far, I was grievously mistaken; yesterday the wind was measured between 40 and 50km/hour-gusting and railing against us for the entire day.
Standing upright in the kinds of gusts yesterday was challenging, but riding a bicycle was beyond what I would consider to be a reasonable activity to do on a day like that.
A marine person we met along the way reported that waves on the St. Lawrence were measured at one meter-the height at which gale force winds are determined to be blowing.
At lunch a local informed us that the winds ‘usually blow in the other direction.’
I don’t know how many times we have heard that, and it was certainly not of any consolation to hear, knowing what we had to go back outside to face.
I also got tired really quickly of seeing cyclists going in the other direction with huge grins on their faces; if they’d had sails they could have been in Vancouver in a few hours.
Whereas we sometimes, when lucky can travel in the low 40km/hour, we were at times crawling along at 13km/hour- fighting and struggling for every single kilometer.
Surprisingly the noise of the wind in the ears is also really bothersome as the wind makes a terrible racket.
We had galley duty last night and one of our crew got in at 9:00pm-poor guy.
We were all really worried about him and his riding partner, as it now gets dark by 8:00pm, so navigating those roads in the dark would have been a been a challenge, on top of the winds to contend with.
Our day started at approximately 8:00am when we had a 10km stretch to get to a ferry that left at 8:30am; we thought half an hour was ample time, until we got out into the wind and realized what kind of a day of horrors we had in wait.
The ride to the ferry was treacherous; we came across other riders battling their way there, some made it, some not.
We eventually arrived into camp at 5:30pm, and had to get started with galley duty almost immediately, after an exhausting day-not my idea of fun.
Lewis was crew chief this time, and in true Lewis-style, picked a three course meal which required much chopping, cutting and overall work.
Luckily we had BC Pete step in and cover for Don, who was still out at war on the roads.
The meal ended up being one of the best yet; a chicken stew, a perfect meal for a post ride of marathon proportions on a cold and blustery day. Lewis was vindicated.
Since we started late, we weren’t able to wash up when we were done dinner at 9:00pm, as it was pitch dark, and we were without any lights-we had to wash the dinner dishes on our breakfast shift, where we served oatmeal (not popular.)
I didn’t care however; as I felt we had done more than our due the night before with our three course meal, prepared under the extreme circumstances. (Dessert included stewed apples in brown sugar and cream, if you please!)
Along the way we met quite a few other riders battling the winds, and ended taking on another rider into our traveling convoy of people who trying to get shelter from the wind.
He was an odd fellow who did not speak much English; not odd for that reason, odd for a multitude of others, one being that he kept poking me in the legs (at lunch) and remarking, in very broken English/French what, “grande des jambs” I had-I knew he was trying to pay me a compliment, but not the sort of thing a woman wants to hear, “what big legs you have.” (He had the physique of a string bean, so I could see where he was coming from, but still.)
He also called me a ‘monster’, something also that one doesn’t necessarily want to hear, again, I got the compliment, but still….
I got a couple more slaps on the back, and pokes in the leg with his spindly finger before we parted company.
He was a good distraction for a while from the mind grind that was going on, on the bikes.
Thankfully I had one of the best sleeps that night, as I was bone tired, and the cold weather made for a cozy sleep.
The weather seems unseasonably cold; usually August is one of our hottest months, but it has taken a rather wintry turn, and has some of us bundled in toques and jackets around camp.
We all prayed to the Tailwig Gods, and hoped that the winds would switch direction in the morning-no such luck; I stepped outside our tent into another wall of wind-how on earth we were to fight our way through another day of this treachery?
The ride, at least for the first part of the day, seemed, if possible even more difficult that yesterday as we had to cross through flat unsheltered terrain, where there was no shelter from any trees or hills.
Again, we were crawling along at 13km/hour in parts-painful.
If there is ever a place to get time to stand still, it is on a bike, faced with such winds.
As a distraction, we did go through the most amazing little towns that looked like they had been painted-every little house was so unique and pretty, with colorful shutters, covered in flowers.
We met up with Aussies and joined forces, making the going a little bit easier.
We ended up stopping for lunch at a spa-restaurant, where people were cruising around in their dressing gowns (from the spa.)
I was very tempted to throw one on and hunker down; the thought of getting back out into the harsh elements was enough to make me cower.
The only consolation for days like this is the food; and make no mistake, we are consoling ourselves very well, so well in fact that I feel like I am at ‘fat camp.’
We picked up some Quebecoise fromage and baguettes, with red wine, and sat on the beach and heartily rewarded ourselves this evening-the scene was spectacular and was a great way to end the day.
Tomorrow’s ride is 164km, I will cry if the winds have not let up when I get up tomorrow morning.
Quebec City to Riviere Quelle
Distance: 138 km
Day 59 Trois Pistoles
Riviere Quelle to Trois Pistole
Distance: 117km
August 21, 2006
If I had thought that I had already had my toughest ride on the tour thus far, I was grievously mistaken; yesterday the wind was measured between 40 and 50km/hour-gusting and railing against us for the entire day.
Standing upright in the kinds of gusts yesterday was challenging, but riding a bicycle was beyond what I would consider to be a reasonable activity to do on a day like that.
A marine person we met along the way reported that waves on the St. Lawrence were measured at one meter-the height at which gale force winds are determined to be blowing.
At lunch a local informed us that the winds ‘usually blow in the other direction.’
I don’t know how many times we have heard that, and it was certainly not of any consolation to hear, knowing what we had to go back outside to face.
I also got tired really quickly of seeing cyclists going in the other direction with huge grins on their faces; if they’d had sails they could have been in Vancouver in a few hours.
Whereas we sometimes, when lucky can travel in the low 40km/hour, we were at times crawling along at 13km/hour- fighting and struggling for every single kilometer.
Surprisingly the noise of the wind in the ears is also really bothersome as the wind makes a terrible racket.
We had galley duty last night and one of our crew got in at 9:00pm-poor guy.
We were all really worried about him and his riding partner, as it now gets dark by 8:00pm, so navigating those roads in the dark would have been a been a challenge, on top of the winds to contend with.
Our day started at approximately 8:00am when we had a 10km stretch to get to a ferry that left at 8:30am; we thought half an hour was ample time, until we got out into the wind and realized what kind of a day of horrors we had in wait.
The ride to the ferry was treacherous; we came across other riders battling their way there, some made it, some not.
We eventually arrived into camp at 5:30pm, and had to get started with galley duty almost immediately, after an exhausting day-not my idea of fun.
Lewis was crew chief this time, and in true Lewis-style, picked a three course meal which required much chopping, cutting and overall work.
Luckily we had BC Pete step in and cover for Don, who was still out at war on the roads.
The meal ended up being one of the best yet; a chicken stew, a perfect meal for a post ride of marathon proportions on a cold and blustery day. Lewis was vindicated.
Since we started late, we weren’t able to wash up when we were done dinner at 9:00pm, as it was pitch dark, and we were without any lights-we had to wash the dinner dishes on our breakfast shift, where we served oatmeal (not popular.)
I didn’t care however; as I felt we had done more than our due the night before with our three course meal, prepared under the extreme circumstances. (Dessert included stewed apples in brown sugar and cream, if you please!)
Along the way we met quite a few other riders battling the winds, and ended taking on another rider into our traveling convoy of people who trying to get shelter from the wind.
He was an odd fellow who did not speak much English; not odd for that reason, odd for a multitude of others, one being that he kept poking me in the legs (at lunch) and remarking, in very broken English/French what, “grande des jambs” I had-I knew he was trying to pay me a compliment, but not the sort of thing a woman wants to hear, “what big legs you have.” (He had the physique of a string bean, so I could see where he was coming from, but still.)
He also called me a ‘monster’, something also that one doesn’t necessarily want to hear, again, I got the compliment, but still….
I got a couple more slaps on the back, and pokes in the leg with his spindly finger before we parted company.
He was a good distraction for a while from the mind grind that was going on, on the bikes.
Thankfully I had one of the best sleeps that night, as I was bone tired, and the cold weather made for a cozy sleep.
The weather seems unseasonably cold; usually August is one of our hottest months, but it has taken a rather wintry turn, and has some of us bundled in toques and jackets around camp.
We all prayed to the Tailwig Gods, and hoped that the winds would switch direction in the morning-no such luck; I stepped outside our tent into another wall of wind-how on earth we were to fight our way through another day of this treachery?
The ride, at least for the first part of the day, seemed, if possible even more difficult that yesterday as we had to cross through flat unsheltered terrain, where there was no shelter from any trees or hills.
Again, we were crawling along at 13km/hour in parts-painful.
If there is ever a place to get time to stand still, it is on a bike, faced with such winds.
As a distraction, we did go through the most amazing little towns that looked like they had been painted-every little house was so unique and pretty, with colorful shutters, covered in flowers.
We met up with Aussies and joined forces, making the going a little bit easier.
We ended up stopping for lunch at a spa-restaurant, where people were cruising around in their dressing gowns (from the spa.)
I was very tempted to throw one on and hunker down; the thought of getting back out into the harsh elements was enough to make me cower.
The only consolation for days like this is the food; and make no mistake, we are consoling ourselves very well, so well in fact that I feel like I am at ‘fat camp.’
We picked up some Quebecoise fromage and baguettes, with red wine, and sat on the beach and heartily rewarded ourselves this evening-the scene was spectacular and was a great way to end the day.
Tomorrow’s ride is 164km, I will cry if the winds have not let up when I get up tomorrow morning.
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